


Lovers To Strangers

by clarissa_writes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Heartbreak, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealousy, Post-Break Up, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18502408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: After two years since breaking up, you see Bucky again.





	Lovers To Strangers

You didn’t think you would ever be in this situation.

Awkward run-ins with your ex’s were the kind of things that happened in movies and rom-coms, after all. That stuff hardly ever happens in real life and if it did, it certainly wasn’t going to be at your boss’s wedding.

Yet here you were.

In an awkward run-in with your ex at Tony Stark’s wedding.

“(Y/n).”

It was the quiet whisper of your name that broke you from a conversation you were having with Tony’s business associates. You couldn’t stop the flinch, the sudden pick up of your heart rate or the drying of your mouth. The slight tremble of your hands as you turned around to face him was barely visible but you felt it all the same.

That earth shattering realization of who it was standing a feet behind you was numbing, yet all too much at the same time.

You wondered if he noticed.

With the way his piercing blue eyes stared into you, you guessed he didn’t.

“James.”

A wince.

Bucky swallowed down the initial shock he felt from seeing you standing there in front of him. After two years since calling it quits, he saw you again. When his eyes zeroed in on the familiar (h/c) hair his fingers had woven through countless times, the figure his hands had run down in passionate embraces, the hands he’d held when he had nightmares, the hands that held him when he was drowning in self-hatred, his brain short-wired.

His feet carried him to you without his mind processing it.

So now you both stand there, once again, in the middle of a dance floor like that day two years ago.

Except you stare at each other as strangers and not as lovers about to break apart.

- _2 years ago-_

“Come on, Bucky. They’re playing your favorite song! Dance with me.”

You tugged on his metal hand, not the slightest bit fazed when the cool surface of his plates bite into your skin. You’d grown used to intertwining your fingers with metal rather than flesh. Something Bucky didn’t think was ever possible for someone. He stared at you, distant pale blue eyes meeting (e/c) ones.

He says nothing as you pull him down the center of the floor.

He hadn’t talked much today.

Normally he’d kiss you on the temple, ask about your day and find some way to just _touch_ you. A lingering touch of his fingers, a fleeting kiss- anything.

But not today.

“Bucky?”

You stand still, people dancing around swaying with their partners and then there was the two of you just standing there looking entirely out of place. Like two roses in a cluster of dandelions.

Beautifully out of place.

Almost as out of place as he’s been feeling for a while.

“Buck? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want to leave-”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

It feels as though the air is punched out of you. For a moment you’re not sure if you’re standing or if you’d fallen over from his words, but you bear through it with a shaky, uncertain smile. The ground beneath you disappeared. You could hardly feel like yourself. Your hand tightened around his by a fraction but he noticed. Yet he stares at you. Stares at you with beautiful, sympathetic eyes.

Stares at you as if you were someone he didn’t know anymore.

“What can’t you do anymore?”

You asked, too afraid to accept what you know he’s talking about but needing confirmation all the same. It’s cowardice, you think. To have him spell it out for you when you know damn well what he’s inferring. It you need this. You want every slim chance you’re misreading the situation. You don’t want to admit the truth that so painfully twists your gut. You don’t dare to blink, not even when you feel the heat in your eyes or the blurring of your vision. The weight of unshed tears at the edge of your eyelids but you simply stare at him.

You stare at him, unwavering, as you hold onto the final strands of your heart. As you desperately cling onto the fragments of your memories.

The heart that was ludged in your throat because you could hardly breath, could no longer speak as you wait. You wait for the words. The words you had no idea what was the cause of.

You wait for him to break your heart.

“Us. I can’t- I’m not ready... I’m sorry, (y/n), I just...”

He can’t figure out what to say. What the right words are. How to properly do this. If there’s even a right way to break someone’s heart. Because he knows he’s doing that. He knows that no matter what he says, no matter how he tries to reassure you that it’s not your fault and it’s his ~~everything is his fault~~ it won’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, the pain will still be there.

Your heart will still break.

And it does.

“Why?”

Its the only thing you ask him. Not “is there someone else?”, not “is it because of me?” not even “is this a joke?”.

Just-

_Why?_

Because you can’t understand it, you don’t know why. Everything seemed fine. Everything was fine yesterday. What led to this? What led him to break your heart? Why was he hurting you like this? Why did it look like as if saying those words killed him almost as if it killed you.

You had fights, sure, but you always worked through it.

So, why?

Why?

 **Why**?

_Why?_

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can appreciate his beauty under the dim lights of the dance floor. The way his long hair had been tied back, how his crisp new suit looked and the clean shaven jaw you peppered kisses along just hours before when he shaved for The Gala.

You hold this image in your mind, burn it in your soul because you _knew_ this was some of your final moments. Your finals moments as a lover.

_His lover._

Your final moments of being so much to someone else before you inevitably become strangers again.

As if you never met.

Because lets face it. There’s no going back from this.

No “let’s stay friends”.

Not when you’ll always remember the way his lips felt across your collarbone, not when you’ll always feel his warm body cocooning you in a warm embrace or how it felt to run your hands through his hair, dig your nails down his back or how it felt to wrap your legs around his waist.

There can never be a way to go back pre-(y/n) and Bucky.

Where there was a hint of flirting, shy smiles, unsure touches. Back where everything was pink and fluff and _just beginning_.

No, there was nothing like that for them.

Post-(y/n) and Bucky will simply be (y/n) and Bucky.

Two separate people living separate lives unknowing of how the other is doing.

Because thats what post-(y/n) and Bucky means.

The end.

The definitive end.

And so when his eyes drop to the floor and all he can answer with is a pathetic shrug, you nod. You nod despite the tears beginning to fall over your lids, you nod despite catching the attention of Steve and Natasha who were now watching in complete utter confusion at what was happening.

You nod, slipping your hand from his and giving him one last look.

A look he met half-way.

And you were sure of what he saw.

Red, teary-eyed, heart broken ex-girlfriend looking thoroughly devestated.

You take in a shuddering breath and turn away.

Step by step you walked away from him, leaving him by himself in the middle of the dance floor where everyone else around him was engulfed in joy.

Completely oblivious to the pain you were feeling.

And in the midst of it all, laid the broken heart you left behind.

- _present_ -

The people you were speaking to were long gone by this point. People were still wary around him, even after learning of his brainwashing and his new position as an Avenger. You aren’t too surprised though your heart still breaks for him. You lift your hand, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and tighten your hold around the glass of wine in your hand.

“It’s uh, it’s been a while.”

You cringe from how awkward that sounded. You hoped to sound a little more light and, you don’t know, happy(?) to see him. Then again, you were completely caught by surprise by his presence here.

Bucky never appeared for anything social. He only ever showed up when you dragged him or if Steve’s prodding had gotten to the point of being ridiculous. Which hardly ever happened.

But its Tony’s wedding, so you can see this was an exception and now you stand there hating yourself for not thinking this was a possibility.

As if you purposely avoided any chance encounters ~~you totally did~~.

“Yeah,”

He breathes out,

“Two years.”

You force a smile on your face, nodding as you took a sip of your wine. God, couldn’t the ground just swallow you up? This was beyond awkward and it was borederline uncomfortable at this point. Too much nostalgia, memories and just utter pain from being near him.

You didn’t need this.

Hell, you didn’t want to feel the wounds you long buried in your heart to start unraveling again.

“So um,”

Bucky shifts on his foot,

“How- how have you been?”

You let your eyes fall to your shoes before dragging them up again. You take his appearance in. He still looked unfairly handsome, but there was something different. He seemed _lighter_. Happier, maybe. And you can’t figure out why but it hurt.

His dark hair had been cut much to the likeliness of how he styled his hair in the 40’s. He was clean shaven, looking ever bit modern and comfortable as he has ever been in a “death trap” he called the suit. You don’t know what to say. So you smile and lie through your teeth just to lessen the hurt,

“I’ve been good.”


End file.
